As I lay in bed in our little attic room, my mind was filled with the fact that this would be my last and final day on the Camino. Today I would fulfill my dream and walk into Santiago de Compostela. So I should have been excited but I was ambivalent. Part of me thought I should have gotten up really early and started walking and the other part of me thought — why?

I put on the exact same trekking clothes I had been wearing every single day since I had started this Camino — the same shirt, same trekking pants, same shoes, same fleece jacket, same scarf, same rain coat, just different socks and under ware.

They were serving breakfast downstairs and I was going to grab something quick and eat it as I walked. But somehow we ended up sitting down with a couple from Australia and they started telling me how rough the Camino had been for them. They were only doing the last 100 kilometers from Sarria but the woman told us she couldn’t wait until today was over because she had just too many injuries on the Camino. Then, for some reason, I heard myself telling her that I couldn’t wait for it to be over and that I was glad this was the last day. Why did I say that? Did I really feel that way? After they left the table I got really choked up and almost burst into tears thinking about this really, truly being the last day.

I slowed down and took my time eating and even had a second cup of coffee. Then Dick and I parted ways. He was going to drive to Santiago and turn In the car and I would walk and meet him there.

The path started out beautiful as usual and there was a lot of downhill. Then it started going uphill and I was getting winded. I expected the trail to be so crowded today but there weren’t any more trekkers than usual. If I came upon a group of them, we all quickly thinned out and I felt like I had the trail to myself again. And that was how I liked it — truly being alone.

It was supposed to rain today but so far it was just overcast and the air wasn’t heavy with moisture like the previous days had been.

This was something I was seeing for the very first time. The couple on the right had their packs on those wheel things but then they could also pick them up and carry them on their backs when the trail got rough. Pretty cool.

There was a ton of uphill today, especially as I got into the outskirts of Santiago and had to circumvent the airport.

Although I was still nestled in the trees I could hear traffic on the road to my right and jet engines on the runway on my left — but I couldn’t actually see any of it. If it hadn’t been for the noise I would have thought I was still way out in the country.

And then as the trail ascended higher and higher we were suddenly shrouded in fog. It started to rain, a light rain and people were stopping to grab their ponchos out of their backpacks. But I didn’t stop. I was hoping beyond hope that the rain was temporary and would clear any minute. And that’s what happened. Things began to clear up and the rain stopped.

I had now walked 10 miles and knew we must be getting close to Santiago. Another way I could tell we were close was that more than ever, guys were stopping to pee at the side of the road. I mean, it was like they were going to wet their pants with excitement that they were getting so close to being finished!

And then I saw it. There was Santiago — I was really going to make it! What I didn’t realize was that I was still a good 5 miles away.

I finally emerged from the trees and entered the noise and traffic of Santiago. And suddenly I was afraid of being alone. Unlike before, I now wanted to be surrounded by other trekkers. It seemed like just as I would see some, they would stop for some reason and I would pass them and have to look ahead for others. “The Way” was not well marked at all and I was forever thinking I was lost. And for the first time on the entire trek, I felt lonely. I wanted to be with someone else. And I kept thinking — the end has to be near — the end has to be near. But it wasn’t.

I had my eye on one lone trekker about a block and a half ahead of me and I kept hurrying along so I wouldn’t lose sight of him. Then he crossed the street and went up around the corner and I was just sure I would lose him. How did he know to go around the corner? There were no yellow arrows pointing that way.

I hurried to follow him into this little pedestrian walkway and I thought, “OK, now I’m really close.” But I wasn’t. The walkway had twists and turns and forks that split into 3 different paths and became more and more congested with people and shops and venders. And I was still blindly following this guy because I didn’t see any signs for the Camino. I wanted to stop and ask someone if I was going the right way to get to the Cathedral but I knew if I did I’d lose sight of my “trekker guide.” So I kept blindly following him.

Then as I was going down some stairs a woman sitting on the ground started playing the bagpipes and that’s when I saw him — I saw Dick waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and I burst into tears.

I had made it.

Through my sobbing and tears my emotions were all over the place — pure joy, extreme exhaustion, euphoria, sadness, excitement, disappointment, happiness and a pure sense of accomplishment. Through all the ups and downs, the mountains and the hills, the mud, muck and rain, the blister, the hurting foot, the runs, the beauty and serenity of each and every day on the path, the spiritualism I felt each time I passed or entered a church, and all the friends I met along “The Way” — I had finally made it! I had fulfilled my dream!

The Cathedral.

The square in front of the Cathedral with trekkers lying on the ground, basking in the gory of finally making it to Santiago.

On our way in to Mass.

The Cathedral was big enough to seat 1000 people — but all the seats were taken and it was standing room only for Mass.

I was truly back in civilization, back among crowds of people, shops, vendors, restaurants, cars, traffic and materialism. Life on the Camino had been so pure, so simple, so uncomplicated. My journey was over but would always remain a part of me.

I was eager to get started this morning since I’d walked such a short distance yesterday. Over Cafe con Leche and toast I told Dick I had no idea how far I could walk today so he shouldn’t make any hotel reservations. Even with the high demand for rooms we’d just have to take our chances and hope we could find something when I finished walking.

Dick assured me there would be no rain today but the morning was foggy as I started out. Once I got through the town of Melide the path veered away from the highway and into the woods.

There were several other trekkers on the path but we quickly spread out so I felt like I was walking alone agin.

I wasn’t ready for a break when I came upon this “Little Oasis” but it was a pleasant surprise and would have been a nice resting place.

The path was just as pretty as yesterday as I passed through village after village.

These trekkers were having some sort of sunrise ceremony out in the field and I’m not sure if the girl on the right was a Nun, a Quaker or a Hippie!

The path wasn’t bothering me too much today even though it had a lot of steep ups and downs. There was just one point where I walked uphill for what seemed like a half a mile before it leveled out. At that point I had to stop and catch my breath but when I started going again, it was more uphill. This was right before the town of Ribadiso and by that time I’d walked about 8 miles.

I had no idea where Dick was but as I kept walking uphill I spotted him sitting outside at a little Bar.

I was so happy to see him and be able to take a little break. I still felt good and wanted to continue walking so we examined the map and decided I’d walk a few miles farther to a little Village called Calle. Dick drove ahead to get us a room there, and I continued my uphill trek through Ribadiso and then down into Arzua, which turned out to be another big town I couldn’t wait to get out of.

The path turned into the woods again where I was joined by lots of fellow trekkers, including this priest.

And then there were the cows. A big tractor was herding these cows up the trail and it almost ran over the last poor cow who was the slow one of the bunch.

They called this the “Wall of Wisdom” but I’m not sure the name fit it. Each card was filled with questions about philosophy or religion. And at the moment all those questions seemed too deep for me!

Before I knew it I had reached Calle, where I saw Dick walking down the road toward me. He told me there was absolutely no chance of getting a room there because tour busses of trekkers had arrived and tons of people were waiting to check in.

There wasn’t even a place to sit down outside. I told Dick that was fine and that we’d meet in the next village of Salceda and he could get a room for us there. So I continued walking and enjoying the sights.

When I met Dick again in Salceda the story was the same — sold out! But I was still doing OK and I told him I could walk for another 30 minutes and then I’d be ready to call it a day. So I continued walking and I didn’t see Dick again for another hour! By that time I was exhausted and had walked 17 miles.

We were right by a town called Pedrouzo. So we started driving through the town and I would hop out of the car at every Hostel or Hotel we could see but they were all full. Finally I went into a small B & B called Arca and they had one room left. I snapped it up! It was an attic room, up three flights of stairs, with no windows and a shared bathroom. Were we lucky or what?!!

We stayed in the cutest little place last night, the Pulperia Casa Camino in Palas de Rei. Although Dick had made reservations they first tried to give us a dark little room with no window and one small bed but when I asked for 2 beds they let us have this room.

Looks cute, huh? Well it had it’s drawbacks. The shower was a death trap. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was tiny and had one plastic sliding door that made you step into the tub onto a ski slope step — where I slipped, banged my shin and almost brought the shower walls down with me. The shower nozzle sprayed water directly at the side wall and there was no way to adjust it. That made bathing almost impossible. I had to hold the nozzle in my hand and clean myself as best I could while blood streamed out of my cut shin. The bed was one of the most uncomfortable I’d ever slept on and the pillow was made of cement!

All in all it was a horrible nights sleep and the frosting on the cake was this morning when I stepped outside into fog and a light rain. I had only planned to walk 10 miles today and was so glad of that decision. Dick bought a Cafe con Leche while I was outside donning my rain gear but for some reason I couldn’t even take a sip of the coffee. Just as I was ready to leave I looked up the hill and saw a bus load of tourists get off and head for the Camino Trail.

This morning I knew that the trail zigged and zagged around the main highway and I thought I’d outsmart the other trekkers by staying on the main road. Well, that was an excellent decision. As I observed everyone else getting off the road and cutting inland, I kept going straight. Then the trail would come back to the road and zig and zag inland but on the other side of the road. HA! I had them all beat!

Then just as I was tooting my own horn and thinking I was so smart I passed another entrance to the trail but decided I’d just walk right past it and stay on the main road. Well, there was a taxi driver sitting there who rolled down his window and told me the trail was “back there.” I told him I wasn’t going to take the trail because it would be muddy. Then he said, “No, it’s not muddy, and anyway it’s shorter than the highway.” Shorter? And no mud? OK! So I turned around and went back to the trail.

Well this was pretty. But about two blocks into it…

What’s this???!!! He promised “NO MUD!” And why was that taxi driver sitting there anyway? And why was he so insistent I take the Camino Path instead of the highway? Perhaps, just perhaps, he knew more than I did.

The path wasn’t too difficult although for some reason the slightest uphill was killing me today. And my foot was making me walk funny for the first couple of miles until the ibuprofen kicked in. The trail did pass through cute little villages where other trekkers were stopped for a break.

After about 3 miles I stopped for some fresh squeezed orange juice and there were 2 other older women trekkers in the Bar. The OJ was very sour so I drank it quickly and followed those women out of the Bar. We immediately started going uphill and it was then that I noticed one of them was smoking. What??!! She was old, she was walking uphill and she was smoking? And I was huffing and puffing behind her — without having a cigarette in my mouth??? Well, I had to do something about that! I sped up so that I could pass them and get away from the trail of smoke but it nearly killed me by the time I reached the top of the hill!

The path continued to be pretty and seemed to pass from one village to the next with plenty of places to stop for a break.

In many places along this trek I would pass these vault like structures perched high above the ground and I had no idea what they were for.

More pretty sights before the path merged again with the highway.

For some reason I just had no energy for this walk today and was so happy when I could finally see the outskirts of Melide.

Just before entering the town I noticed some steps going up to an open door.

I could vaguely see another trekker inside so, being curious, I entered through this side door into a church. This year had been declared the Holy Year of Mercy by the Pope and some churches along “The Way” had special side doors through which to enter for this special Holy Year.

The church was small but welcoming and I knelt to pray and light a candle for Curtis, a friend who was not doing well.

Today was a beautiful day but I simply had no energy to continue on. I was so happy to meet up with Dick and check into Pension Xaneiroi.

Without even taking off my coat I flopped down on the bed and slept for the next 2 hours. Later in the day we went out for wine and ice cream and my Camino Concierge was a very happy camper. He deserved all the wine he could drink!

The cute Donkey and his cart were gone this morning as I began my walk from the village of Gonzar. It was another overcast morning and the air was saturated with moisture.

The dirt path started next to the highway but after a block it turned inland and started going uphill. I was all alone except for the chirping birds that surrounded me. Then I saw him, a lone Japanese Trekker not too far ahead of me. How did I know he was Japanese when all I could see was his huge backpack from behind? Because he was talking to himself and even though I couldn’t understand him, his voice was loud and expressive. Boy did he ever seem embarrassed when I passed him and he realized I was there!

“The Way” was not well marked but I saw a road that veered off to the left and there was a cement marker that I had to circle around in order to see which way it was pointing. I followed in the direction of the marker but felt I shouldn’t have. I was on what seemed like an old dirt logging road that kept going uphill. And Mr. Japan Man was no longer behind me. As the road continued to go up and up and up I kept having to stop to rest and catch my breath. Then I felt like talking to myself and spitting out a few choice words of dislike for this uphill climb. I didn’t think it was raining but there was so much moisture in the air that little droplets of water were rolling off my hair and down onto my face.

After about 2 miles of uphill, the dirt road merged with a blacktop road and I started seeing markers for the Camino and eventually I saw a few other trekkers.

I felt the walk was so difficult this morning and that the constant uphill would never end. It wasn’t a pretty walk like yesterday morning and by the time I’d walked 3 miles I was ready for a break. Inside the little Bar where I stopped, the TV was blaring away in Spanish about the elections between Hilary, Bernie and Trump — even here in Spain! After Cafe con Leche and a banana I hit the road again.

The path continued along the blacktop road through a couple of little villages and seemed to be going forever uphill. There were a couple of pretty sights but otherwise I found the walk to be tedious and couldn’t understand why I couldn’t appreciate it more.

Unlike yesterday morning I wasn’t stopping every 5 minutes to snap photos of sights that I thought were incredibly beautiful. As I walked along today, hating the uphill climbs, I had time to contemplate the Camino and what it meant to me. “The Way” seemed to represent life in general, with uphill struggles that I didn’t think I could get through and rocky areas where I had to proceed with caution.

But eventually they would evolve into easy paths where no problems seemed to present themselves.

I thought back to my conversation with the girl from Denmark who did not like yesterday mornings walk at all. She said there was so much uphill and she couldn’t wait for the walk to end. But I, on the other hand, loved the walk and other than the brief uphill at the start of the walk, I found it to be one of the prettiest walks yet. We had both walked the same path on the same day but with such incredibly different views of the experience. It wasn’t really the Camino itself that was beautiful or difficult or challenging, it was simply our interpretation of it that made it what it was. Had I walked in her shoes I would have seen things in a totally different light. This was so true of how we interpret life in general and the ups and downs that come with it.

When I wasn’t going uphill I was walking pretty fast until I came to a little church.

By this time I’d walked about 7 miles so I sat down outside the church on a slab of cold stone and still couldn’t get this whole experience out of my mind. Every day on the Camino had been different, just like every day of life was different. Today was different from yesterday and tomorrow would be different from both. And everything revolved around our view of the present and what we would make of it. There were never any guarantees that things would work out as planned but we had to roll with the punches and deal with whatever the future held. And for now I hoped I could make it through this day and that my foot would behave and let me walk into Santiago in a few days. But this was life — with no guarantees. After I left the church I slowed my walk down to a snails pace.

It was 7:30am when Dick dropped me off in Peruscallo, right in front of a mud puddle! This was where I had finished my trek yesterday and where I would begin again today. The air was cool and overcast and I was the only trekker around. My foot was still hurting, especially when I first started walking but I was waiting for the Camino Candy (Ibuprofen) to kick in.The path was absolutely beautiful but because of the fog I couldn’t see very far ahead. And the water and mud? They were a constant on today’s journey.

The path was easy and level in spots but went uphill and downhill in many others.

After about 2 miles (which felt like 5) I stopped at a little Bar for my first Cafe con Leche of the day. Shortly after I arrived, 2 other trekkers came in. They were the first I had seen today.

I was intrigued as I came upon the back of this little church so I pushed open a gate and went in to explore the grounds. As with so many of these little villages the church and the cemetery were as one.

Although I was alone I never felt it as I passed from one small village to the next.

They were quiet little places and I rarely saw a local or heard the moo of a cow.

Although I smelled cows and cow dung in many places on the path, these were the only 2 cows I saw all day.

This stretch of mud and water went on for at least 2 city blocks. The only place to walk was on the rocks to the left and that was not an easy thing to do. As I was rock hopping and hoping not to fall I could hear another trekker approaching closely behind me. There was no place I could let her pass me so I tried to go as quickly as possible without falling.

The mud quickly disappeared and it was back into beautiful scenery.

In my opinion I thought this mornings walk was absolutely spectacular.

Now I just had to cross the bridge to get to Portomarin.

Arriving in the Central Square

I had walked 9 miles and was going into the central square of Portomarin when I saw Dick getting out of his car. He had just returned from trying to find us a hotel room for tomorrow and here’s what he encountered.

He had gone to 6 Hostels, Hotels and Albergues and on the 7th try finally found one with a vacancy for tomorrow. This was awful. This place was being overrun and sold out with new trekkers wanting to walk that last 100 kilometers to Santiago. I don’t know what they were doing on the bus but Dick said the bus let them off and they all headed for the Camino Trail.

We sat down to have some coffee and started talking to 2 trekkers from Denmark. One of them was headed home because of a pulled muscle. The other one had done the wak this morning and said she didn’t like it at all. She said there was way too much uphill. For once, it hadn’t even bothered me and in fact, I thought today’s walk was stunning.

Even though we were staying here in Portomarin for the night I decided I wanted to walk about 5 miles farther which would shave some time off of tomorrow’s walk. After a banana and some fresh squeezed orange juice I took off again.

This time the path wasn’t so pretty and it was almost all uphill and bordered the highway. I ran into plenty of other trekkers but not hoards of them like Dick had seen.

The path did have some pretty parts but by the time I had walked another 5 miles I was ready to meet Dick. He was waiting for me in the first little car behind the donkey!

He drove me back to Portomarin to our nice sized hotel room where I could shower, wash my hair and feel like a real person again.

And besides the lovely trek, here’s the most wonderful thing about today — I bought myself a hair dryer! Whoopie!!!!

When we discussed plans for today’s walk I had decided I would walk as far as Sarria, about 9 miles away. I thought it would be another easy day with another easy walk. Well, the best laid plans….

The first 6 miles of today’s walk would be on mountain paths and I knew there would be a lot of mud and I really wasn’t looking forward to that. The first mile was next to the road on one side with that beautiful river on the other side.

I could see 8 other trekkers walking ahead of me but when I saw the distinct yellow arrows point off to a path on the right none of the other trekkers went that way. What? Why? Did they know more than I did or did they just not see the yellow arrows? I looked behind me and another couple hadn’t taken the path either. Ten trekkers and none of them saw the yellow arrows? A couple blocks later we all caught up with each other and stopped. I think they had figured out they weren’t on the Camino path.

Well, I knew from looking at the map that the highway would get me to Sarria, as would the muddy Camino path.

So I told a Spanish couple and a confused Japanese couple (who spoke about 3 words of English and no Spanish) that I was going to take the highway. The Spaniards started walking the highway, I followed them and the Japanese couple followed me. The others all back tracked to get back on the Camino Path.

It was supposed to be sunny and warmer today but so far it was cool and quite overcast. Even walking along the highway, the landscape had its own beauty.

It was a little bit dangerous walking directly on the highway because every so often cars would go whizzing by at a high speed. There was sometimes a little path on the other side of the guard rail but it spooked me to walk on it because I was afraid there might be a snake lurking in that grass!

And I had to be careful to avoid stepping on those big black slugs that were often on the path.

I reached the city of Sarria before noon and realized I had no desire to stay there.

I met Dick for coffee and told him I wanted to keep walking and get out of this busy place.

Sarria is a starting point for many people who want to say they have walked the Camino and still receive their Compostela in Santiago. With diligent walking it can be done in about 5 days. So I knew there would be a whole slew of new trekkers who would be joining us on the Camino. What I didn’t know was how difficult that would make it for us.

The path was beautiful and ever changing upon leaving Sarria. It was level at first but then went steeply uphill through the mountains. After a few miles it leveled off and was such a pleasant walk.

I was running into more and more trekkers, especially large groups of them. Dick had driven ahead to get us a room in a small village but when he got there he said there were no rooms available at all and that there were 50 trekkers waiting outside of one place just to get a place to sit down! Oh Man! This was not going to be easy.

After I’d walked a total of 14 miles and there were still no vacancies anywhere I met Dick and suggested we drive to the town I wanted to be in tomorrow (Portomarin) and that we stay there tonight and tomorrow night. Tomorrow morning, Dick could drive me back to where I had walked to today and I would walk the rest of the way to Portomarin tomorrow. Sounded like a plan, right? Well, it wasn’t as easy as that! We drove ahead to Portomarin and I went from Hotel, to Hostel to Albergue and they were all completely full! Finally I found one at Hotel Arenas that had one room left for tonight and one for tomorrow night and even though it was expensive I grabbed it up. I knew the demand for rooms would be big but I had no idea it would be this bad!

As for now, we were set for the next two nights, the sun was out, and we were starved. We had a great late lunch in the central square and soaked in that beautiful sunshine.

As was our nightly ritual we would sit outside again for a glass (or two) of wine before retiring for the night.

Outside Hotel Arenas in the Central Square. Great day with beautiful scenery and the perfect wine, I mean way, to end the day!

Decisions, decisions. There was a choice this morning of one of two routes which would eventually lead me to Sarria. One route was through the forest but 4 miles longer than the other. The second route bordered a road and had a steep uphill the first 4 miles. We talked about it over breakfast and I had a hard time deciding which one to take. Finally the choice was made. I’d walk the longer route through the forest, but I would shorten the day to walk only 7 miles.

Breakfast was included in the price of the room and was the best yet. It wasn’t just toast and coffee, it also had ham and cheese, yogurt with honey and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Water, water everywhere and let there be sun — and of course some mud! I’ll let the pictures do the talking for today’s walk.

It still felt like Winter as I walked outside into the heavy mist that hung in the air. Although it was 7:30am, nothing was open in this little village so it was no use trying to get any cafe con leche before starting today’s trek. The place seemed deserted. Dick and I stood there a few moments until finally I saw a Trekker pass by and I quickly followed him.

I thought today would be mostly downhill and that it would follow a lot of the highway so there wouldn’t be much mud. Boy was I wrong on both counts. Immediately upon leaving the village of O’Cebreiro I was going uphill and walking in mud. I was carrying my full 20 pound pack because I thought it would be such an easy day but I was huffing and puffing from the get-go!

The terrain continued uphill and the mud got even worse.

I had worn my down jacket with hood and my leaky raincoat over that. I really couldn’t tell if it was raining but when I touched my hair and the hood of the down jacket they were completely wet.

Luckily I had my poncho tucked in the front of my jacket so it was easy to pull it out and slip it on over everything. I was so looking forward to taking photos of the countryside this morning but because of the dense fog I couldn’t see more than 50 feet ahead of myself. The muddy path continued with lots more uphill than I expected so I was ready to stop for a break by the time I came to the first village, about 3 miles away. That’s when I packed away the wet down jacket and changed into my fleece jacket, then covered that with the leaky raincoat and put the wet poncho back on over everything. It was nice having my full pack with me so I had everything handy.

The terrain started going up and downhill but the mud continued.

When I came to this person trying to dodge the mud I knew I couldn’t do it so I back tracked to a spot where I could get on the highway. And I loved walking on that blacktop! The crazy thing was that while the road stayed at a slight decline, the path to my right kept going up and down. Sometimes it would be at highway level and sometimes it was 30 or 40 feet above that. But why? I was soooo glad to be on the highway even though it was a little more dangerous.

Below is a huge statue that was across the highway from me. When trekkers stood there to have their photo taken their heads came up to its knee. It’s probably my favorite photo of the day.

After walking about 7 miles Dick texted me to meet for coffee. I told him I was on the road and asked if the road would take me into the village where he was. He didn’t answer that question. All of a sudden he texted and said I had passed the village. How could I have? The path was to my right (I thought) and I hadn’t seen any village. Just then I got a text from Tim and Joanne Joseph who were vacationing in Portugal and they were following me on Find My Friends. They told me the village was up ahead and that I hadn’t passed it! That made me feel so much better. This technology!

Looking glum as Dick met me coming into the village. This was the first time I had worn the poncho and I thought it was so cool that the blue poncho matched my blue 99 Cent Store gloves. That perked me up right away!

After half a banana, some fresh squeezed orange juice and tons of water I set out again. Shortly I came upon a little old lady standing by the side of the path passing out tortillas. Actually it was more like a crepe that she put a couple grains of sugar on, then folded it and handed it to me. She was so cute. I gave her a Euro and admired her tenacity — tending to trekkers while making an income for herself.

At this point I had to stay on the path because the road zigzagged around before it reached Triacastela. The fog still hung heavily in the air and it was still hard to see or photograph anything.

It was downhill for the next 6 miles and with all the mud I went a little slower because I didn’t want to slip and fall. Finally things cleared and daylight opened up.

It had been 6 hours of walking in ugly conditions and I was so glad when I finally saw Dick and we checked into our Hostel called Casa David. No blow dryer but the room was slightly bigger than yesterday and the hot shower felt great!

Lunch was even better with steak and this beautiful salad.

It’s a funny thing about the “Menu del Dia” that we have every day after I finish walking. For 10 Euros per person you get a starter course, like this salad, a Main Course, like Steak and a dessert. You also get bread and, get this — either a bottle of water or a bottle of wine. Now which would you choose???

VILLAFRANCA to HERRERIAS — 12.5 Miles HERRERIAS to O’CEBREIRO — 5 Miles

This morning I lay in bed wondering how far I’d be able to walk today and if I’d have the strength to do it. I had finally eaten some solid food yesterday, after 2 days of a liquid diet so I was getting my strength back. My stomach problem had been solved and I knew I had to get back out and start walking again.

It was 48 degrees and Dick told me it would be cloudy with no rain. However, when I arrived at the starting point of today’s walk it started to rain. Good thing I had my rain pants handy so I quickly slipped them on.

Now that we were out of the Meseta and into the mountains the terrain had changed and the views were magnificent. There were two routes to choose from to get to Herrerias. One was up over a mountain and the other was around the mountain but bordered a remote road. I knew the mountain would not only be muddy but would kill me trying to climb it. So I stayed on the path next to the road, which was the original Camino path. And I thought it was breathtakingly beautiful.

The rain wasn’t bad, it even stopped at times while a heavy mist clung in the air. But the best part was, the path wasn’t muddy. It ran alongside a little river sporting white water rapids or the occasional little waterfall and a swift current. The sound of the river, along with the chirping of birds and the beautiful scenery took my mind off the fact that I was walking next to a road. Because this was a secondary road I hardly ever saw any cars. And the one thing I was loving was — walking alone.

For some reason there seemed to be more trekkers than I was used to seeing, some walking alone, some in pairs and some in groups. I was walking slower today than I normally did but I was enjoying every minute of it. There were several little villages to walk through, some that seemed like old ghost towns and others lively with trekkers and Bars open for trade.

When Dick texted me and said we could have coffee in the next village I couldn’t believe I had already walked 8 miles. When I met him we walked into a little bar that was filled with loud trekkers and I decided I didn’t need any coffee, just a little break.

There was a statue outside the Bar with a special sign below it and as I was standing there another young girl standing next to me pointed to the sign, looked at me, I started clapping then we both started squealing and jumping up and down with delight. We never said another word to each other!

The walk continued on, through little villages and as trekkers we seemed to spread out and I felt like I was walking alone again.

After 12 miles of walking I had had enough for the day. The path would now go up a pretty steep mountain for the next 5 miles and I knew I couldn’t do it. But Dick had made hotel reservations at the top of that mountain in the village of O’Cebreiro. My Camino Concierge needed to come get me and drive me up there. This morning I had told him to get us a large Hotel room, that was nice and warm with heat, had 2 big beds and a blow dryer in the bathroom. And he was to look at the room to make sure it had all of that before he paid for it. So here’s what he did. He went to the O’Cebreiro Hotel Rustico, booked a room, with one double bed, and paid for it without looking at it. And here it is.

It was freezing cold with no heat and no hair dryer in the bathroom. And the bathroom was so small there was no place to put the toilet paper except on the lid of the toilet tank. And the pillow! There was only one long pillow stretched across the bed.

Dick loved this whole 1 block long little village and when we were about to eat lunch he said he felt like it was Christmas. Christmas? It felt like Winter to me, it was freezing, it was raining and you could see your breath outside. But I was very happy that he was even able to get us a room here because everything else was sold out (or so he said!).

This is the village church that dates back to the 9th century.

We had read about a priest, Father Don Elias Valina Sampedro who was the parish priest at this church. It was his idea to mark the Camino with the familiar yellow arrows. And I believe that without these arrows not many people would be walking the Camino today. He also restored the building where Dick and I were staying. He passed away in 1989, is buried there and his bust sits outside the church.

We walked into the church a little later that evening and I realized Mass was about to start. So we decided to stay. It was said in Latin and Spanish with a small part in English. At the end of Mass there was a celebratory blessing for all of us walking the Camino.

I have thought long and hard about writing, or not writing this part of my journey but I know people do get sick on the Camino and maybe knowing what I’m about to write will help them if they ever need medical help along The Way. I’ll try to soften it as much as I can but some areas may be too much information for some people. And I know that many of you will not agree at all with the way I handled this whole thing but I did what I thought was best for myself.

I also want to say that I love Spain and have met wonderful, caring local people here. Everyone has been so fantastic and so friendly and accommodating. The way they help Pilgrims walking the Camino is exemplary and above and beyond the call of duty. They have been here for us 100% of The Way.

Let’s continue with last night at 8:30pm when I called to Dick who was sitting outside the window of our room talking to the owner of the Hostel. I told him that I needed help. I had had diarrhea for the last 3 days and it just wasn’t getting any better. I had taken some over the counter medication but it wasn’t helping either. This was the same illness I had in India and with one dose of a medication called Cipro I was cured. So last night I asked Dick to go to the pharmacy around the corner to get some Cipro. The owner of the Hostel accompanied him and they came back only to tell me you can’t get any antibiotics here in Spain without a prescription.

So the owner of the hostel, who was so helpful, suggested I go to the hospital in the next town because I’d be able to see a doctor there and I could get the Cipro. Then he said Dick shouldn’t drive me because it was dark and we would never be able to find the hospital in the large, congested town of Ponferada. I was all dressed for bed and said I didn’t want to go, that I’d go see a doctor tomorrow. But they both pressured me and finally I gave in. The owner called a taxi friend who showed up 5 minutes later.

The taxi driver drove like a bat out of hell through the narrow streets of Ponferada and we arrived at Hospital de la Reina. This hospital would treat Pilgrims who needed help. I walked in and a bunch of girls were standing around reception just socializing and laughing. I told them my problem and the one receptionist said “We only treat Pilgrims for foot and leg problems. And anyway the Pilgrim Doctor left at 8pm.” All of this was in Spanish. So there was no choice but to leave. Then the taxi driver asked if we wanted to go to another place to see a doctor and I said yes.

Well, the place he took us to was a real dive–I felt like I was in a third world country where they treat the poorest of the poor. Again, I explained my problem (in Spanish – no one spoke English) while everyone in the waiting room heard me and knew that I had diarrhea!! The waiting room had about 10 other people in it and they told us to sit by a woman and wait my turn. The taxi driver left. Then they called people into little rooms one by one. Finally a woman patient came from down a hall, pointed at me and said “Go left.” What? She said it again so I guessed it was my turn. Then just as I got up, the woman sitting next to me started to faint. They tried to make her stand up but she went out like a light while people were running to hold her up by her arms and dragging her lifeless body into a room.

At that point I walked down the hall, turned left and a very nice looking, sweet lady called me into her office. Well, I only got as far as telling her I had diarrhea when she said (in Spanish, of course) “Sorry, just a moment.” I knew she had to run out to help the fainting woman. She came back into the office 2 more times, apologizing and saying she’d be back. The next time she came back she told me to go to the adjoining office to see her colleague. So we got up and went in there.

This guy was about 50, very cold and aloof, didn’t introduce himself or ask my name. Again I explained all about my diarrhea, thinking he’d give me a prescription for Cipro. He told me to get on the examining table, which had paper on it but to take off my shoes. When I laid down he motioned for me to pull my pants down and my top up. So I did, but I guess I didn’t do it far enough because he took hold of my pants and yanked them down to my pubic hair! (Good thing Dick was in the room!). He poked and prodded all over my abdomen then motioned for me to get up. Once up and dressed again I told him I’d had the same problem in India and took Cipro and it solved the problem in one day. He said, “Well, you don’t have a temperature (which he hadn’t even taken) so I can’t give you Cipro. In India you had Cholera and we don’t have Cholera here in Spain.” I could not believe my ears. I did not have Cholera in India. And anyway, how would he know what I had in India? He then wrote out a paper telling me I couldn’t eat for 4 hours, then I had to go to the pharmacy and buy some granules and put them in a liter of water and take 1 teaspoon, then 10 minutes later take 2 teaspoons, then 15 minutes later take 3 teaspoons. And I was to keep doing this every 2 – 4 hours. Then he told me to buy some over the counter anti-diarrheal pills. I had already told him that I had done that and it hadn’t helped. I asked him if he was a doctor and he said “yes” but he didn’t want to tell me what his name was. I could not believe this guy or even believe anything he was telling me!

At that point I took the paperwork , said thank you and walked out. I knew I wasn’t going to do one thing he had told me to do. At reception I asked how much I owed and they said “Nothing.” Luckily the cab driver walked in at that moment and took us back to the little town where we were staying — for 25 Euros. All the way back I was ranting and raving to Dick and telling him everything the doctor had said to me and that he would not give me any prescription at all. Dick said he couldn’t understand what we were talking about in Spanish but he didn’t like that Doctor at all.

We got back to the hostel at 11pm and the owner was waiting for us outside and wanted to know what happened. I stood on the street corner, absolutely distraught and told him everything. He was so sweet and couldn’t believe it. He tried to console me and patted me on the shoulder. I thanked him ever so much for his concern and he told me it was his job to be there for Pilgrims. Then he said there would be a woman doctor who would be in this little village at 9:30 in the morning so I told him I’d go see her.

The next morning the owner was again waiting for us out on the street and he walked us to the doctors office. She was very efficient and took me right in. I explained my story, she put me on the examining table, poked and prodded and then told me she could not give me a prescription for Cipro or any other antibiotic because she didn’t know if what I had was bacterial or viral. She told me to go to yet a different hospital back in Ponferada, where we had been last night. She said I needed to go there just to have my blood drawn so they could determine what antibiotic to give. I said OK and asked how much I owed. Nothing!

We hopped in Dick’s rental car, Dick put the hospital address in his GPS and off we went. Mind you, this was going to be the 4th place we were going to just to do something about my problem. After getting lost and going around in circles a few times we arrived at a huge hospital and found the emergency entrance. We checked in at reception and they said we’d have to pay and I said “That’s fine. No problem.” I had my regular insurance plus we had taken out Travel Insurance. Then I had to go through the story of why I was there. After that they sent me to the waiting room where about 20 other people were. Every so often a woman would come out and yell a name. Finally she called me. We went into an area where some really cute and nice nurses were and again they had me re-tell my whole story. They were the first ones to ever take my temperature and blood pressure, which were both normal. Then they sent me back out to wait some more.

A while later I was called in again to a little office. The woman there asked me why I was there and I had to go through the whole story again. Then she motioned for me to get on the table and she poked and prodded my abdomen. She never looked at me and seemed to be so impersonal. I told her I was just there to have a blood test. She didn’t even look at me but kept writing then said, “Yes, you have to stay here while we do a blood test and give you a “suero.” A suero? Mind you, everything was being said to me in Spanish. I had to think a minute and then I remembered that a suero was an IV. I needed an IV? My temperature was normal and she hadn’t even checked me for dehydration. This seemed like an over-kill to me. So I asked her if I really needed an IV when all I came in for was a blood test. She looked at me in a mean way, like she could spit venom and reiterated the IV and the blood test. Then I told her all I wanted was a prescription for Cipro and that in the US when a person travelled out of the country the doctors would give Cipro for them to take just in case they needed it. She said she would never do that. At that point I knew I wasn’t going to accept her treatment, especially her IV, and I told her I didn’t want the IV and that I was leaving. And she said, without even looking up, “Well if you think you know more than I do then go ahead and leave!!!” (All of this in Spanish, of course.) So I left — walked out to reception and said I wasn’t staying for treatment and asked how much I owed. The guy said “No charge.”

I was so mad I wanted to scream — and I was happy that I had walked out! So Dick and I got a hotel room in the same town — a nice big room at the lovely Hotel Madrid.. We took a little nap then I got up to have more diarrhea and — OMG — there was a bunch of blood. OK, this might be serious. Now where was I going to go?! Certainly not back to any of the places I had been seen. But wait — there was that first hospital last night who refused to see me because I didn’t have a foot or leg problem. Well, I DID have a foot problem so I told Dick we needed to go back there. At least we hadn’t burned our bridges there! The taxi had driven us there last night, and this was a HUGE city, and I don’t know how Dick did it but he drove us right back there, to Hospital de La Reina.

Now remember, this was now my 5th try to get this problem solved. So I walked into reception — to the same girl who was there last night and refused me entrance because I didn’t have a foot or leg problem. I walked up to her and said I was there for a foot problem — and also an intestinal problem. She said they could only see me for the foot problem and I said “OK I’ll pay for the intestinal problem.” Then she was nice and said OK. She told us to go to a waiting room. We sat down and immediately a cute, young, tall Doctor came out and called me in — IN ENGLISH! This was the first person I had dealt with anywhere who spoke English. He said his English wasn’t very good but it was. I started with the foot problem — he examined my foot and told me I was just over using one of the bones on the side of the foot and that I needed to rest for 2 to 3 days, not walk at all, put ice on it and keep it elevated. And he didn’t even say anything about my hairy legs, which I hadn’t shaved for 2 weeks!

Then I asked if he could help me with the intestinal problem and he said “Sure.” I told him all about it and that I had blood and he said it wasn’t a serious problem to have blood when you had diarrhea. Especially because I had no other problems — no fever, no pain, no other symptoms. Then he told me the way to cure things was to rest and not eat anything for the next 2 days except water and maybe some clear liquids. He said that would stop the diarrhea. And if it didn’t, to come back. I told him I was so relieved to hear everything he said, especially about the blood. Then Dick said, “Could you take a look at my foot, too?” And he said “Of course.” He examined Dick’s foot and told him he had pulled something in the back part of his foot and that he needed to keep ice on it and rest for the next 2 to 3 days. I was elated when we left the office and told him how nice he was. Then he kissed me on both cheeks and when we got to reception he said to the girl, “No Charge!”

That lovely young Doctor, whose first name was Ramon suggested we get out of this big city and go to Cacabelos, a cute town in the countryside where it would be more preferable to relax. So the next day we did just that. We checked into a charming, restored place called La Moncloa de San Lazaro and had the cutest big room.

Then we went out onto the patio so Dick could have something to eat. He ordered a wonderful lunch and I ordered broth.

The waitress asked me what was wrong and why I wasn’t eating and I told her I had an intestinal problem. She said “Oh, my son gets that all the time, a lot of people do.” Then she told me the way to cure it was exactly what Dr. Ramon had told me — only clear liquids for 2 days, etc etc etc. I saw her later and she motioned me into the bar and made me a special concoction of fresh lemon juice, water and brown sugar (basically lemonade) and then put it into a liter bottle and gave it to me. She wouldn’t accept any money for it. She was another absolutely sweet and wonderful person along The Way.

Four different doctors, four different opinions and I chose the one I felt was appropriate for me. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t spoken Spanish. This all seemed like such a fiasco for such an ordinary problem. But the simplest treatment worked and although I was weak, with 2 more days of rest I would be good to go again.